44 ✿ The Guilt They Carried

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In came Newt, dragged by the arms as he wrestled against the guards.

Jemma knew it would only be a matter of time before she had to do the same to Newt as she had done with Minho. 

"Subject A3?" she checked with Janson.

"No. That's the girl. You have the wrong one," Janson informed the guards.

"We know. This one was eager to take her place," they explained, holding Newt in front of Janson.

Janson's eyes narrowed. "I didn't authorize it."

With an undying spirit of rebellion, Newt spat in Janson's face before resuming his wild struggle to get himself free from the guards' grip.

Janson calmly wiped the saliva from his eyes, his face displaying a disgust until it morphed into a smirk.

"Fine. A5 will do. Jemma get the swipe done."

Jemma cringed at her identity being revealed. Newt's eyes snapped towards her.

"What? I-I don't understand."

Janson's suspicions were roused again. He narrowed his eyes before darting them back and forth between Jemma and Newt. He turned to the control subject.

"Do you know this girl?"

Newt opened his mouth, no doubt to do exactly as Minho had done, scream about how they were friends, how she had betrayed him. Then he closed it again. His eyes met Jemma's and searched hers, hard. Jemma tried to tell him through her eyes that she had no choice, that she didn't want to hurt him. Newt shook his head.

"I don't know her."

Why did those words hurt Jemma so much? She didn't understand. Why wasn't Newt screaming at her. He looked back up at her and she saw in his eyes, he understood. He was hurt and betrayed, but he understood. He wasn't going to give her away.

"Good," hummed Janson. "Give him the swipe, Jemma."

Suddenly panic overcame Newt and the thrashing began again.

"No! I can't leave! I need to stay here! Get your hands off of me!"

Jemma grabbed the syringe. Newt grabbed her wrist in an iron grasp.

"What about Moira?! I can't forget her, please! Just don't take away my memories of her, I can't lose that! Give me that at least!"

"I'm sorry," Jemma whispered.

Then as the guards pulled Newt's hand away she injected him. The swipe was done and he was in a tank.

It was done.


...


"Jemma?"

Jemma sat at her desk. She had caught a glimpse of Thomas' screen, the maze. She saw Newt, Minho...she couldn't help but stare. She turned her head to Thomas who was now looking at her with concern.

"What's up Tomkin?" she asked nonchalantly, trying to seem normal.

"You okay?"

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?" she replied quickly and sternly, her body stiffening at the question. She felt like at any moment she would burst into tears about Newt and Minho, but she couldn't, not with Janson nearby. She had to seem like she didn't care.

"You were staring into space. I threw a pencil at you and you didn't even flinch."

Jemma rolled her eyes. "Maybe I'm so used to you throwing things to annoy me that I don't notice any more."

Thomas sighed deeply. "Wise up, I would at least get a glare."

"Maybe you're not worth it," hissed Jemma defensively.

"Guys, I'm trying to work," whined Teresa.

Suddenly the alarm sounded for the end of the work day. The three teenagers packed up their things to head for dinner.

When they were making their way down the corridor, Thomas grabbed Jemma's shoulder.

"How his Moira keeping? You know with Minho and Newt being in the maze?" he asked, barely above a whisper for fear of being heard.

"I don't know, Thomas, I haven't seen her, same as you."

"Do you think she'll meet us again?"

"I think it's too dangerous for her...for all of us. My guess is that she's devastated over Newt and Minho. She must be so lonely."

"All the more reason for us to visit her!"

"Thomas...maybe...but right now it's just too much of a risk. She'd understand."

Thomas' eyes filled with disappointment.

"I know."

After dinner they headed towards their bedrooms.

"Hey, LJ, wanna come into my room and chill for a bit before lights out?" Thomas asked.

Jemma hesitated. "I don't know, Thomas, I'm kind of tired..." In reality she just needed some space, some time to deal with the guilt of what she had done.

"Please," he looked at her with those big brown puppy eyes.

"Oh alright," she agreed reluctantly.

The two friends lay on Thomas' bed, close together as they stared at the ceiling.

"LJ?"

"Yeah?"

"You think we'll ever see them again?"

"Who?"

"Newt, Minho, Moira, and not just behind a screen? Or...our parents?"

Jemma turned to face him.

"Tommy, I know you miss them. I miss them too...but the cure-"

"I know," huffed Thomas. "But..."

"But what?"

"But is this really the only way?"

"What do you mean?"

"The cure. Is the only way scaring our friends, make them lose their memories...I'm beginning to question it."

Jemma's stomach churned.

"There's nothing we can do now, Thomas. W.I.C.K.E.D. has them now. It's out of our control."

Thomas stared blankly. Then his eyes showed the pain he'd been hiding for so long.

"I know...I just...I care about them, LJ..."

"Aw, does wee Tommy have a heart?" joked Jemma. "It's alright. It means you're human."

Then she realised in the darkness why his eyes glistened.

"Thomas...are you crying?"

"I just feel so guilty. I have to just sit and watch them."

Suddenly Jemma felt her own tears escaping.

"Thomas...I feel guilty too. I'm the one who puts them in there..."

Then she felt something else, Thomas' arms around her.

They cried together that night - for the loss of their friends and the guilt that they carried.



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⏰ Last updated: Mar 30, 2019 ⏰

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